


gunfire left me divided

by CreatePeaceFromChaos



Series: Timbitat's Quarantine Bingo [21]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Established Relationship, F/F, Girls with Guns, Identity Reveal, Married Couple, Secret Identity, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:48:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25649068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreatePeaceFromChaos/pseuds/CreatePeaceFromChaos
Summary: Olivier Mira Armstrong is one of the best Special Agents in the state, possibly the country. She has put countless powerful people behind bars, and that has made her some very rich, very powerful enemies.Riza "Hawkeye" Armstrong loves her wife dearly, and so she absolutely refuses to let anyone fulfil the contract put out with the bounty on Olivier's death. Even if she has to take down each of the would-be assassins herself.(Hitwoman!Riza, Special Agent!Olivier)
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Olivier Mira Armstrong/Riza Hawkeye
Series: Timbitat's Quarantine Bingo [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1830388
Comments: 5
Kudos: 36





	gunfire left me divided

**Author's Note:**

> For the square "case fic" for my quarantine bingo. And because I wanted to use the tag "Girls with Guns" ever since I realised it existed.
> 
> Fic title from "Golden Throne" by The Tech Thieves.
> 
> (Also, I know next to nothing about guns nor snipers apart from what I've read about in fic and on the occasional tumblr post, so please bear with me.)

A deep breath in, slow and steady. Arms unshaking, body perfectly still yet utterly relaxed.

An exhale, just as steady, just as slow. A blink.

A slight adjustment in position, then a squeeze of the trigger.

The shot flew true.

Blood flew.

Screams erupted as the man collapsed, bloody bullet hole in his forehead, back of his skull splattered over the wall behind his corpse. The automatic weapon he’d been in the process of pulling from his coat clattered to the floor.

Riza packed down her rifle, collected her single bullet casing, wiped down her perch, and left long before the ambulance or any police could arrive.

“Riza!” Ed greeted her with a grin, manic gleam in his golden eyes as Riza slipped into his workshop and unslung her rifle case from her shoulder. “Good to see you! How did it handle?” he asked eagerly, already reaching for the firearm, and Riza’s lips quirked up slightly in the corners as she handed it over to the man who’d been as good as a brother to her since they were kids.

“Perfectly, Ed,” she murmured. “Excellent work, as always.” Ed’s grin broadened, became toothier. “Are you and Roy still coming to dinner tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Ed agreed easily, setting the rifle aside and grabbing a slip of paper instead. He ran a finger down the list on it, humming thoughtfully, and then crossed off the name of the man Riza had shot tonight. “Olivier hasn’t got another case yet, right?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Riza shrugged. Olivier had finished up a three-week-long investigation only yesterday, and was supposed to be off until Monday. It was currently Friday, and – circumstances allowing – the dinner tomorrow night should still be going ahead.

“Well, if something happens, let us know.” Ed’s eyes skimmed the list again and then he looked up at Riza with a serious expression. “Only two left who’ve taken that contract. One’s Envy – Roy’s still trying to get their real name – and the other is a King Bradley, better known as Wrath. He’s the older brother of Selim Bradley.”

“Odd for the Sins to be taking the same contract,” Riza muttered, frowning. The Seven Deadly Sins were a group of infamous assassins working at the direction of a man known only as Father, and they were known for taking a huge variety of jobs between them. Greed had up and vanished a few years back, but rumour had it he’d defected rather than been killed. Pride – Selim Bradley – had been Riza’s most recent kill before tonight’s idiot – the Crimson Lotus, real name Solf Jay Kimblee – and so that left only five known Sins still roaming around and taking contracts.

That three of them in total had taken the contract on Olivier’s head was… troublesome. Worrisome. Riza wasn’t entirely sure which was more applicable.

“It is, especially since they apparently didn’t get assigned it through ‘Father’,” Ed agreed. “I think you might’ve pissed them off when you got Pride, though, so be careful.”

“Always am, little brother,” Riza told him, and ignored his scowl and flailing prosthetic hand as she ruffled his long golden-blonde hair. “I’ll see you and Roy at dinner tomorrow.”

She left without waiting for him to recover from her assault on his person – as he would phrase it – and shoved her helmet back on her head before climbing onto her motorcycle. If she went the back way and avoided the speed traps, she should be home just before Olivier.

Olivier was a little quieter than usual when she got home, but she still greeted Riza with a small smile and a warm kiss, which Riza leaned into as she always did. They prepared for bed in a comfortable silence, and curled beneath the covers with limbs entwined, exchanging soft kisses. Olivier was very clearly exhausted, almost dozing off as Riza kissed her, and so Riza eased the kisses to a stop and put her back to Olivier’s chest so her wife could spoon up behind her.

Olivier’s lips pressed to the back of her neck, and Riza squeezed the arm around her waist gently in return. She listened to her wife’s breathing deepen and soften as she fell asleep, and shut her eyes to let it claim her too. She’d protected Olivier that night, and she would continue to do so.

Next up would be Wrath or Envy, whoever tried for Olivier first, and then there would be only one more on the list of those contracted to murder the infamous Special Agent Olivier Mira Armstrong.

Envy was a known disguise artist, but the information Roy had found for Riza – handed over subtly at the dinner at her house on the Saturday night – was thorough enough for Riza to be able to identify the assassin at a distance, even if not in a single glance like with Kimblee or Pride.

Still, she was able to identify them, even down the scope of her high-powered rifle, and it was the work of minutes to send a bullet through their skull when they started to approach Olivier outside a witness’ house on Tuesday. Envy favoured knives, but Riza didn’t intend to allow them to get that close to Olivier, and so the moment she was certain she had an accurate identification, she was aiming and firing.

As with before, the would-be assassin crumpled to the ground with the back of their head blown out and a bullet wound in the dead centre of their forehead. Riza packed down, cleaned up her perch, and then booked it the moment she heard sirens. It was risky, doing a hit like that in broad daylight and in the middle of suburbia, but she refused to let any of the Sins – or any other assassin or hitman – kill her wife. Not while she was around to prevent it.

***

She was at her wits’ end. Everywhere she went lately, someone was getting shot in the head, and investigation into each of them revealed that they were assassins and hitmen, presumably contracted to kill someone in her vicinity. There were no deaths with the same MO anywhere else in the city, though – so, even though she didn’t know why, she had to assume that whoever the shooter was, was taking out these assassins because they were targeting _her_. But that didn’t make sense to Olivier – why would a sniper, presumably an assassin or hitman themselves, stop others from fulfilling a contract and then not take the contract themselves? Or had they been hired to take out the others?

Olivier would have been leaning towards the last option, if it weren’t for the fact that two of the dead assassins were the infamous Pride and Envy of the Seven Deadly Sins. Those two were among six – formerly seven – untouchable assassins working for a man known only as ‘Father’. If it were _only_ the Sins being taken out, Olivier might assume that the sniper was the man formerly known as Greed, even though he had been a close-quarters killer.

There were only a few snipers who weren’t in the employ of the military or government, though, and even fewer with the kind of accuracy that could allow them to take out a man like Solf Kimblee in the middle of a gala, or identify and deliver a headshot to Envy without being detected.

None of them were known to be in the city, though, even with all Olivier’s contacts and leads seeking out the information. Whoever was killing these assassins, they weren’t being contracted to do so.

And that had her worried. What if this sniper moved on to innocents? Civilians?

What if this sniper decided that _Olivier_ was a tempting next target? Olivier didn’t fear for herself, not really, but more for leaving her wife a widow.

This sort of musing wasn’t getting her any closer to an answer, though, and the lack of information was driving her batty.

“Ma’am, we’ve finally heard back from Lyon,” Miles said, and Olivier looked up from the coroner’s report on Kimblee to see her white-haired second-in-command standing military-straight in her doorway.

“And?” she pressed, voice cool and composed.

“Interpol has data on the locations of three of snipers you asked about, and eyes have been on them as recently as yesterday. None of them are anywhere near here and haven’t been in months.”

“And the fourth?”

“The Hawk’s Eye hasn’t been seen since Easter.” A week before the first shooting. Interesting. “Interpol did have some more information for us, though,” Miles added, and stepped forward to pass over the paper in his hand. “There’s a contract on you. And every single person who’s been shot here in Central by our sniper had taken the contract.”

***

Riza settled into her chosen perch and burrowed down, going through the setup of her new rifle by rote as she made sure she wouldn’t be seen from the air or ground. Ed and Roy had sorted out cameras for her, but there were still real-time issues to worry about.

This was going to be the last one, though Roy would keep his information network on alert for anyone else who might be stupid enough – or desperate enough – to take the contract on Olivier. Only Wrath was still going to try it, and Roy’s network had managed to track him down to this location. He’d been staking out Olivier’s workplace, going startlingly unnoticed by passers-by or even security at the agency – which was a concern, and if Riza could get away with it she’d bring it up with Olivier – and Roy had received word that Wrath intended to try for Olivier on her lunch break today.

And so Riza was set up, scope trained on Wrath as he sauntered down the street, seemingly without a care in the world. She watched him approach Olivier’s workplace, loitering outside the gates and seemingly checking his phone and then messaging someone. She had to give him at least a _little_ credit, she supposed – if she wasn’t fully aware of who he was, his little act would’ve fooled her.

Still, she checked her position, checked the wind and calculated the distance, and shifted her aim just a little. This would go right between his eyes, as long as he didn’t move before she shot.

A breath.

An exhale.

A squeeze of the trigger.

Wrath collapsed, back of his head blown out by the bullet.

Chaos reigned, and Riza smiled to herself in satisfaction as she went through the routine of packing everything and wiping away any evidence of her presence.

Olivier would be safe, now. She’d made sure of it.

“Ma’am, we’ve got something on the extra cameras,” Miles said, and Olivier looked towards him. He held out a tablet to her, and she took it and frowned at the still. It was blurry, enhancement only able to do so much, but it was full colour and that made all the difference. On one of the rooftops opposite the agency’s building, a small brown shape huddled on a rooftop, the barrel of a high-powered firearm peeking out from beneath it along with a blonde ponytail and a pair of small, gloved hands.

On the back of the gloves was a red design, though there wasn’t enough definition in the footage or the still for any specifics to be notable. It was circular in shape, or possibly a square, and it wasn’t a solid red or there wouldn’t be blurred details in it.

It was better than nothing

“Any ideas?” Olivier asked, passing it back to Miles, who shrugged.

“Not a clue. Blonde hair suggests Fullmetal, but he retired a decade ago. Likewise with Flame – those red marks on the gloves could be Flame’s calling card. But again, he’s been retired for a decade.” Miles paused, but there was clearly something else.

“And?” she prompted. Miles still hesitated. “Spit it out, Miles.”

“This is conjecture, Ma’am. I’m going off rumours and guesswork, nothing concrete,” he warned, and Olivier nodded acknowledgement of that and waved a hand for him to continue anyway. “Rumour has it that the Hawk’s Eye was a contemporary of Fullmetal and Flame, so maybe they took up the calling cards of the others when they retired?”

That did seem like a stretch, but…

“It’s a start, if nothing else. Can anyone get in touch with Fullmetal or Flame and find out if they know anything?” she asked, frowning.

“Not that I know of, Ma’am, but I can send out feelers.”

“Good. Do that.” Olivier glanced at the time, frowned, and stood. “I’m heading out. Do what you need to and then go home, Miles.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

***

Fuck! She should’ve known it was far too easy to get to Wrath!

Riza spat a curse and gunned the engine of her bike, huddled low over the handlebars and pressing a hand to the graze on her stomach that was oozing blood. It would’ve been worse if she wasn’t in her usual ‘work’ gear, but it still hurt like a bitch and she was still fucking _bleeding_!

Thankfully Lust wasn’t the one who’d ambushed her – that bitch liked her poisons, and Riza did not have much of a resistance when it came to those. No, she just had _Sloth_ on her tail – and wasn’t _that_ name a joke, considering his fondness for heavy munitions and rapid-fire automatics – and she was just lucky he hadn’t managed to hit her bike when he’d shot at her.

“Call Fullmetal,” Riza snapped into her headset, and her voice-activated assistant beeped cheerfully.

“Calling Fullmetal,” it announced, and Riza glanced in her rear-view mirrors as she took a corner – far too fast – and listened to the call ring.

“What’s going on, Hawkeye?” Ed’s voice demanded. He only ever sounded that serious when he was called on his emergency phone.

“Sloth on my tail,” she spat, and grunted as a pothole jostled her wound. “Got a bullet crease. Navel.”

“Sending Flame and Knives out to take some of the heat off, and Mechanic will be here when you arrive,” Ed responded briskly. “Wrath?”

“Headshot,” Riza replied with vicious satisfaction. She took another corner, accelerating as soon as she levelled out and risking a glance over her shoulder. Sloth’s SUV was close behind, but she was starting to get a bit of distance on the bastard. “Got my location?”

“Tracking you from the moment I picked up,” Ed promised. “Flame’s a block out.”

“Got it.” Riza fell silent, focusing on outpacing Sloth and trying not to think about the blood oozing into her jeans from the burning stripe across her belly.

Roy felt like he was racing against the clock, heart pounding as his foot pressed harder against the gas. He’d known Riza since they were kids, and he was _not_ about to lose her to some bazooka-happy assassin.

“We’ll get there in time, Roy,” Maes tried to reassure him, and Roy shot a glare at his best friend even as he stomped on the brakes and hauled the steering wheel to send them careening around a corner. Maes yelped. “Okay, okay, I’ll shut up!”

Roy didn’t respond, instead keeping an eye out for Riza’s familiar bike.

_There!_

He spied Riza’s motorcycle flying through the intersection ahead, and accelerated to swing out of the side street just in front of the tricked-out SUV that’d been slowly gaining on her. Maes squawked and then hauled up the short-barrelled, high-powered _behemoth_ Ed had been tinkering with and aimed the armour-piercing rounds at the front of the SUV that had the huge figure of Sloth at the wheel. Roy ignored the deep _boom_ that accompanied each shot – he did _not_ want to know what monstrosity Ed had created this time – and instead kept eyes on Riza as she sped off towards Ed and Winry’s shop. They just had to stall – though personally he’d rather kill Sloth – until she was home safe.

“Riza in sight,” Ed’s voice came through the phone on the dash. “Deal with Sloth then get back here before anyone IDs you, idiot.”

“Love you too, honey,” Roy responded, though he was grinning now. Maes let out a whoop and Roy flinched as there was an enormous _boom_ from the car behind them.

“…ooh, did Maes hit the fuel tank?” Ed asked excitedly.

“Yeah!” Maes crowed, and Ed cackled maniacally. Roy just shook his head as his best friend and his husband, and hit the accelerator hard once more. He wasn’t going to look.

“Back soon,” he said instead, and then slipped through the side streets to get back to Ed and Winry’s shop.

***

Olivier hadn’t expected to come home to a silent, dark home. Riza’s bike was nowhere to be seen, but most of her day-to-day necessities were still there. Her phone, her wallet… her keys were gone, as were her helmet, boots and jacket, but her phone and cards and ID were all still in their places in the bedroom. Riza was nowhere to be found, and Olivier couldn’t even call her to find out where she was or make sure she was alright.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there in their dark and silent bedroom, staring down at the phone in her hand, but it was well after sunset when she heard Riza’s motorbike coming up the street. There was the sound of a car, too and when Olivier looked out the window – twitching the curtain aside only just far enough to do so – a familiar sporty red vehicle was following Riza’s bike down the street.

But there were three blonde heads in the red car, and the person riding the motorbike was the wrong shape and size to be Riza.

Something had happened.

By the time the front door opened, Olivier was downstairs, though she had yet to turn on any lights and was yet to announce her presence.

“Ow, fuck, Ed, little less pressure on the fucking wound,” Riza’s voice hissed, swearing in an uncharacteristic manner.

“Sorry, sorry,” Ed replied, just as quiet. “Roy, give us a hand here.”

“Don’t even _think_ about it,” Riza snapped. “I can _walk_ , Mustang.”

“Yet you don’t listen to me when I tell you that you shouldn’t be,” another voice, female, vaguely familiar, said with a kind of long-suffering resignation to it. Riza snarled wordlessly, and the vaguely familiar woman huffed. “I know, I know. You’ve had worse and you can handle a single bullet graze.”

“Uh, guys? Isn’t that Olivier’s coat?” Ed’s voice asked, and Olivier finally turned on the lights. She raised an eyebrow at the four guilty-looking people in the foyer to her house, one of which was her wife. Riza was a little pale, and was missing her bike jacket and wearing a shirt that was very clearly not hers, and she was being supported on both sides by Ed and a woman who – after a moment – Olivier identified as Winry, Riza’s foster sister. Roy was just behind Riza, hands hovering as if to catch her should she start to collapse, but all four of them had the same wide-eyed stare of someone being caught where they weren’t supposed to be.

Olivier glanced from guilty face to guilty face, and then heaved a sigh.

“I am not going to like the explanation for this,” she muttered, and then moved closer to them and touched Riza’s chin. “Bullet crease?”

“Long story,” Riza muttered. “You… aren’t mad?”

“I’m starting to wonder how I’ve been married to you for nearly ten years and not realised you aren’t just a secretary,” Olivier said dryly, and Riza laughed – and then gave a pained gasp. Winry shook off her shock.

“Right, this is not the place for this discussion. Riza needs to sit down,” she said sternly, almost an order, and Olivier took Winry’s place under one of Riza’s arms to offer her support and strength to lean on.

She wanted an explanation, but Riza was clearly in pain and so the explanation could wait until she was settled.

Her wound ached, but Riza had taken bullet grazes before and knew that it wouldn’t last too long. She would need to be careful with her movements for the next couple of days, but apart from that she’d be fine. Especially if she followed Winry’s instructions.

Still, she hadn’t expected Olivier to already be home when Ed, Roy, and Winry finally drove her and her bike back to the house. She hadn’t thought Olivier would react so calmly, either, though the cool demand for an explanation was to be expected.

“Are you sure you don’t need us to stay?” Winry asked in a whisper as she helped Riza settle into the cushions of the couch.

“I’m sure,” Riza replied just as quietly, making sure her voice was calm and firm. “Thank you for patching me up,” she added, a tiny bit louder, and Winry sighed but nodded and stepped back.

“You know I’d do it anytime, though I’d rather you didn’t need me to,” her foster sister said despairingly, and then nodded to Olivier politely and grabbed Ed and Roy by the ears. They both winced and protested, but followed Winry out, managing to wave and call goodbyes as she all but dragged them from the house.

Riza sighed, and then turned her attention to her wife. Olivier settled on the armchair beside the couch, one long leg crossing over the other and an elbow resting on the arm of the chair so her fist could prop up her head.

“Explanation?” her wife asked, and Riza resigned herself to her possible fate.

“I got shot by Sloth.”

Olivier’s eyebrows shot up on her forehead, and then a slight frown creased her face.

“How do you know who Sloth even is, Riza? And why did he shoot you?” Riza grimaced, lifting her hand and running it through her sweaty hair.

“I don’t know exactly why he decided to try take me out, but I know who he is and who his compatriots are because I run in similar circles.” Riza hesitated, and Olivier was staring at her the entire time. “Sloth came after me because I took down Pride and Wrath. I’m the Hawk’s Eye, Olivier.”

**Author's Note:**

> Open ending, because otherwise this was going to go on for pages and pages more.
> 
> As always, I can be found on tumblr at: createpeacefromchaos.tumblr.com


End file.
